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MANCHESTER, N. II. 

J. Arthur Williams, Printer 
1893 



d 



Sonnets 



COPYRIGHTED 1893 



Of this book Thirty Copies have been printed 



No.. 



A MOMENT'S GLANCE. 



I saw her once, once only on the street; 

A moment's glance, caught in the motley throng 
Of one whose steps seem'd measured to a song, 

And traced some graceful dance with fairy feet. 

V/as she a naiad stray'd from her retreat? 
Her face was fair as is a forest flower. 
Her hair and eyes as bright as day's mid-hour. 

Her form as Eden where all raptures meet. 

Strange, that a girl one chances thus to see 
An instant one may not as soon forget! 

Her face, her lips, her eyes form dreamily 
In smoke that rises from my cigarette. 

She was a nameless stranger unto me, 
Alas, and 1 to her, and yet, and yet — 



TO A BIT OF SEAWEED. 



Poor seaweed, hither tossed by the rude hand 
Of some storm-angered wave, thy fibers keep 
The beauty of that garden in the deep 

From whence thou camst, a stranger to the land. 

In that cool wilderness of jeweled sand 
A myriad marvels like thee make display. 
Where infinite sea-meadows stretch away 

From coral palaces, bizarre and grand. 

Thy dainty lace-like web of brown and rose 

Is tattered by the brigand sea's unrest. 
That on the thankless beaches hourly throws 

The varied treasures of his wanton quest; 
Yet I shall keep thee ever, for who knows 

But thou wast pluck'd to grace some mermaid's breast? 



SHAKESPEARE. 



0, Bard of Avon, deeply from the spring 
Of thy unfaiUng thought and poesy 
Have my lips drunk, and yet unceasingly 

Its living and pellucid waters bring 

Some sweeter flavor forth, and oft up-fling 
Some new and undiscovered pearl of thought. 
Yet once this marvel which thy genius wrought 

Was deemed by m.en a small and worthless thing! 

It may be, in that realm where thou art now, 
Thine eye the world's leal homage doth behold, 

And sees, with calm content, about thy brow 
The laurel-wreaths thou wast denied of old — 

Wreaths men to god-like greatness give — 0, thou. 
Who uttered words of iron in tones of gold! 



WHITE. 



She lies within the room her girUsh taste, 
Unconscious of its sweet and spotless art, 
Had fashioned to resemble her white heart, — 

A marvel of the graceful and the chaste. 

But yesterday, her ivory fingers placed 
Those palid roses on the table, there. 
That, like her, in their death are sweet and fair, 

And for her sake their tender fragrance waste. 

Through stainless curtains comes the hueless light 
Of early dawn across the fields of snow. 

And kisses with a splendor clear and bright, 
The marble lips that lived a day ago, 

Ere her fair soul had taken its far flight, 
And left mine to the blackness of its woe! 



THE SEA. 



In cloudless, frozen skies Night's star-eyes gleam 
Above a sea, that anguished, seeks the shore, 
Where, heedless of its petulant hoarse roar. 

The cliffs in shrouds of snow like dead giants dream. 

And there, when in my breast vague sorrows teern. 
Beneath the wintry glamour of the moon, 
My soul has drawn from that vast surge and swoon, 

A respite from its hopelessness supreme. 

For oft, when sadly watching that huge tide. 
My petty pains its virile woe has scorned; 
Into my ears a mighty moan has crept. 
Upon my lips salt flakes of foam have dried — 
The sobs of countless millions who have mourned! 
The tears of countless millions who have wept! 



ST. JOSEPH'S. 



Oft to this old cathedral, twilight dim, 
At vesper service have I come with her, 
And felt the awe of God within me stir, 

When grave priests droned their Latin praise to Him. 

Upon the walls the pictured saints look grim; 
But when to her I turned my raptured eyes. 
She seemed — sweet from far Heaven's dreamy skies- 
Like some Madonna, lily white and slim. 

A.nd so, when she in her dear innocence 

Would kneel and worship God, I also knelt, 
And to herself, — my sweet divinity — 
Would murmur from my happiness intense, 
The boundless adoration that I felt 
For her whose love and beauty blessed me! 



12 



ABSINTHE. 



A demon draught of sweet despair art thou, 
A damning drink that thrills my sated frame 
With dreams of pleasures that I dare not name, 

Albeit their deep stain is on my brow. 

O, potent Absinthe, thou hast taught me how 

To drown in thy green depths my self-wrought blame. 
And make my soul oblivious of its sham.e, 

Forgetting all but thee, as even now ! 

Yet, as I sip thy poisoned drops and feel 
Thy slow insidious gladness in each vein. 

Strange and uncanny terrors o'er me steal, 
And horrid thoughts of madness fill my brain, 

While round me wild-eyed maniacs gibbering reel. 
And urge me on to !-i ell's delirious pain. 



13 



UNKNOWN EYES. 



The starlights of my dreams are those sv/eet eyes 
V/hose glances soft have lit my youthful loves ; 
Shy eyes of Melicent — mild as a dove's, 

Sv/ift eyes of Natalie, whence light'ning flies 

More potent than the levin of the skies ; 
Sad eyes of Garda, scornful eyes of Claire, 
And those of lone, as the heavens fair, 

Made tender by the love that in them lies. 

They bring to me the past's undimmed romance, 
And through the future they will ever shine ; 

Yet with what longing have I sought the glance 
That thrilled me with an ecstacy divine, 

When, once upon a crowded street, by chance 
A strange girl's wistful eyes looked into mine ! 



DESTINY. 



A starry calm has fallen on my soul, 

And hush'd the tumult of my love and hate ; 
I make no childish war with Tim.e or Fate, 

For now 1 know that Fortune's wheel will roll 

Unhindered on unto its destined goal. 

No thought take I of what the day m.ay be ; 

If clouds, or rain, or sunshine come to me. 
Nor v/ord, nor share have I in their control, — 

They heedless come and go, tiiough men protest. 

My harvest shall be as my hand hath sown. 
And if by it my life be curst or blest. 

My lips shall utter neither laugh nor moan ; 
I seek no longer for things unposessed, 

For some day 1 shall come into my own. 



15 



VAGARIE. 



In autumn's glamorous days I love to roam 
Amid the scented vistas of dim woods ; 
Forgetting, in the leafy solitudes, 

The fevers of a world that is not home. 

It seems that nearer draws the sky's blue dome ; — 
Avbove my head, and in the v/ays I take. 
Wide seas of foliage umbrageous break 

Against the winds in red and yellov/ foam. 

A reminiscent rapture fills my heart, 

That seem.s to come from golden days agone, 

And, dove-like, through my brain white memories dart, 
Cf some existence known in life's first dawn, 

When I roamed free, from haunts of m.en apart. 
In nymph-frequented woods, a happy fawn. 



16 



ONE WOMAN. 



Of many women whom my days have known, 
There is but one whose name is truly friend ; 
In her all loveliness and virtue blend, 

Serene and just is she in act and tone, 

And she, of all these women, she alone, 

Hath power to stay my feet in paths of wrong, 
To give a deeper purpose to my song. 

To make earth other than a star of stone. 

Her admonition and her counsel sweet 

Hath never flaw that time or test can prove. 

They guide me as a mid-night wanderer's feet 
Are guided by the calm North Star above ; 

And yet I seek in vain the word most meet 
To name a feeling that surpasses love ! 



17 



TEMPEST. 



I love the dreary rains that autumn brings ; 
The gusty winds, that in despairing trees 
Hold wierd and maniacal jubilees, 

Such as I know Hell's demon chorus sings. 

1 love the low and stifled murmurings 

Of streams that winter's stony glances freeze 
The wild impatient sob of moonless seas 

And any cry of earth that tempest wrings. 

For in the angry moan of winds and woods. 
The hopeless, ceaseless sobbing of the sea, 
1 find a peace that has of joy no part, 
And yet brings calm into my restless moods. 
And by its solemn vastness shames in me 
The torment and the tumult of my heart ! 



18 



A MAIDEN OF DREAMS. 



Sometimes she comes to me in queenly guise, 
Midst courtly pageantry, with gems bedight, 
Or sometimes as an angel robed in light, 

And all a heaven's glory in her eyes. 

Sometimes she is a peri from the skies, — 
In my kaleidoscopic world of dreams 
An ocean nymph, a woodland wraith she seems, 

Or as some maid of legend she doth rise. 

And yet, whate'er her soul's disguise may be. 
My heart, responsive, beats in unison 

With her's, in feeling her reality, 

And joys in recognizing step and tone. 

And thrills, that in deep slumber's fantasy, 
Her face — her blessed face i3 still thy own ! 



19 



PERFUME. 



I know her soul came hither from the bowers 
Of some Elysian garden in the skies, 
And jewel-like mid her bright beauty lies, 

Sweet with the perfume of ethereal flowers. 

For sometim.es, in the calm of twilit hours, 
The faint elusive fragrances that rise 
From her white flesh, her lips, her hair, her eyes. 

My sense with dreamy sweetness overpowers. 

The breath of orange-bloom lurks in her hair. 
From her blue eyes a violet's odor flows. 

Her cheeks the perfume of peach-blossoms bear, 
Her lips like sweet pomegranate buds unclose, 

And from her girlish bosom, white and fair. 
Rise pure, fresh hints of lily and of rose. 



20 



THE VIOLINIST. 



Enveloped by a soft twilight she stands, 
And from the violin's sad songful strings 
The light bow weird fantastic music brings, 

In answer to the art of her fair hands. 

Alluring melody her heart commands ; 

Her rapt sad face glows with strange ecstacy. 
And as she plays strange visions come to me 

Of dreamful nights in Oriental lands. 

We lived and loved in ages dim, remote, 
For ancient memories waken as she plays 

Some magical sad reminiscent note 

My heart once learned in Babylonian days, 

When on the slow Euphrates we would float. 
And to her lute I sang quaint lovers' lays. 



21 



THE NEOPHYTE. 



How sweetly pure, with lowly drooping eyes, 
She stands before the chancel's holy shrine, 
And seems no longer human, but divine, 

As if but late descended from the skies. 

Around and over all a silence lies. 

Perchance some inner, clearer sense of hers 
Hears music from God's hidden choristers. 

And sees within the land where nothing dies. ■ 

White sister-lilies round her stand and nod, 
A gentle wind her angel garments sway, 

And I, forgotten long of Good, or God, 
Feel strong within me a desire to pray ; 

But, bending low my head, stand hushed and awed 
Before this Maiden-Soul without the clay. 



22 



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VIOLETS. 



Sweet flowers, thou hast the power to weave for me 
The misty silks of southern souvenirs, 
And, on the warp of barren after years, 

To thread the past in living tapestry. 

For, by thy perfume's spell, in memory 

St. Augustine once more my eyes behold — 
Its narrow streets, its houses, quaint and old. 

And gray San Marco, menacing the sea. 

But madly beats my heart when I recall 

How, when in the dusk of vine-clad balconies, 

1 sat with her who held my love in thrall, 
And felt the peace of purpled midnight skies. 

When to my eager gazing she turned all 
The slumb'rous violet splendor of her eyes ! 



23 



DREAMS. 



Tis midnight, and beneath the summer skies 
The sea seems languid with the spell of June ; 
Its waves, foam-fingered, reach up for the moon, 

Soft sighing as they ceaseless sink and rise. 

The night's soft beauty on my spirit lies. 

And dreams of love beyond the unknown seas 
In some fair vale of the Hesperides 

Bring strange delicious visions to my eyes. 

The loves of fabled lore grow real again, 

And in some grove of some wine-happy land 

I hear a merry Bechannalian strain. 

And dance with joyous dryads, hand-in-hand ; 

Or with blithe sea-nymphs sing a wild refrain 
Upon a moonlit, Triton-haunted strand ! 



24 



TO A COFFEE CUP. 



Insensate coffee cup, thou canst not guess 
The envy that thy fate has roused in me, 
For thou who hast no heart, nor eyes to see, 

Canst never know my lady's loveliness. 

When to thy dainty lip her red lips press, 
Thou wilt not thrill with tender ecstacy. 
Nor know my heart would burst with joy if she 

Should deign to give my lips a like caress. 

That thou shalt kiss that mouth I envy thee, 
And that, when near'unto her eyes of gray. 

Thou canst not read the pensive mystery 

That holds my absent heart in its sweet sway ; 

And yet, alike at last our fates must be, 

For she will break my heart and thee, some day. 



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